We're the Moth We're the Flame
by AliLamba
Summary: LoVe, One-Shot / Logan doesn't budge. In fact, he leans his weight against the door jamb and crosses his arms over his chest. What is the phrase? Veronica looks like she's in a pickle, and it's intriguing to say the least. "What are you doing?" he asks.


**WE'RE THE MOTH WE'RE THE FLAME**  
by: AliLamba  
rated: T, for innuendo and slight nudity  
notes: Ugh I just woke up thinking about this and burped it out. The fluff is devastating. I might turn this into a ho hum mystery-in-Neptune fic if I come up with anything but likely not.

* * *

When Logan wakes up in the middle of the night, at first he's confused. He checks in with all his body processes. Does he have to pee? No. Did he hear a noise? …No.

Is Veronica naked in bed next to him?

Logan smirks into his pillow and reaches out to her side of the bed. He didn't wake up because he's turned on, per se, but he is open to change.

His hand gropes at the sheets, and Logan opens his eyes. She's not there.

The reason he woke up is suddenly clear.

Logan lifts his head, squinting against the haze of sleep, as he looks around the dark room for his girlfriend.

"Veronica?" he calls out, quietly. He decides she could be peeing, or getting a glass of water, so he drops his head back to his pillow and tries to fall back asleep. Unconsciously he measures the time she's gone, and after another minute and a half he decides that a person doesn't need so much time for either activity and that something is disastrously wrong.

Logan rolls over in bed and finds his boxers on the ground below. He tugs them on, not wanting to explore the house in the nude. The night is unusually warm for this time of year, but his feet are still cold on the hard wooden where he pads quietly around the room. He's probing the darkness for signs of life, or light, and he's finding neither.

He ducks his head into the bathroom off their bedroom, and finally sees where she's gone.

The door to their walk-in closet is closed, but there's a slim row of light leaking out below the jamb. Logan checks the clock next to the bed behind him. It's well past two in the morning. He can't imagine what Veronica would be needing to do in their closet at two in the morning.

Logan walks to the pocket door that hides his girlfriend, and slides it open. It's a loud noise for the quiet of two in the morning, and he feels a little guilty for the frightened look on Veronica's face when he sees her sitting on the carpeted closet floor.

"Girls and their shoes, huh?" Logan tries for a joke. "You just can't keep away…"

He knows he's done his job when Veronica's expression softens into an affectionate smirk. She looks down at something hidden from his view. Logan instinctually looks her over, noticing that she's wearing an oversized t-shirt, and not much else. He's momentarily distracted wondering if they've christened this particular part of their house yet.

Speaking of lewd thoughts, Veronica's shoulders and arms are moving in front of her, out of his line of sight.

"Veronica?" he asks, laughingly, because it looks as if she's doing something inappropriate and he knows that's far from the possible truth.

She looks over her shoulder at him again. "I'll just be a minute," she says, her voice only holding a tightrope's edge of impatience. "Go back to bed, I'll be there soon."

Logan doesn't budge. In fact, he leans his weight against the door jamb and crosses his arms over his chest. What is the phrase? Veronica looks like she's in a pickle, and it's intriguing to say the least. "What are you doing?" he asks.

Veronica's shoulders slump. She pauses, and then she looks over her shoulder at him again.

"Promise you won't laugh," she warns.

Logan's interest is definitely piqued. He keeps his mouth closed as he unfolds himself and takes the extra three steps to her, crouching on his heels so he can look at what she's trying to hide from him.

She sighs when his weight is settled over her shoulder, and it's the _I give up _sigh he doesn't know very well. Veronica fans her fingers, and Logan's eyes widen when he sees the ring on her left hand.

Every muscle in his body – including the muscle surrounding his trachea - freezes at the sight, and his mind goes suddenly blank in the same way all colors combined make white. He cocks his head, speechless, trying to meet her eyes.

Veronica is frowning, her brows twisted, as she stares at the ring. Logan is confused, but his mind is so preoccupied by thought his face doesn't register his shock.

"I thought you said you didn't want it," is all he can manage to say.

Veronica's lips twist together to match her forehead. He can tell she's chewing on the inside of her cheek and she sighs again through her nose. "I don't," she says, and her inflection is heavy on an unsaid _but._

He supplies for her. "But?"

"But why did I put it on?" she asks him, and finally she meets his eyes. Hers are slightly wide and perfectly blue, and Logan has no idea what to say. A strained, tumbling sigh leaves her throat as she refocuses on the ring.

Logan had given her that ring about a week ago. He'd taken her out to dinner at Mama Leone's, and then passed the ring across the table when she'd been halfway through dessert. He decided to propose there because it straddled the line between _I put thought into this_ and _I didn't hire a flashmob_. He also liked it because he thought of Mama Leone's as non-threatening, and he thought she would probably want some amount of privacy to decide. But he knew that he wanted to ask a week ago, six months ago, practically the moment he left for active duty eight long months ago when it was so gut wrenching to say goodbye to her that he knew he never wanted her out of his life again.

What had he said when they broke up the last time nine long years ago? _I think we could take a tough, but survivable amount of pain now, or stay together and deal with unbearable pain later_.

This was past the point of no return; of potential unbearable pain, the unlivable pain. He quite simply could not survive without her in his life knowing how deeply he loved her. He had known that when he asked her to marry him, which is why, even though he had known she wasn't keen on the idea, he had gone through with asking her anyway.

Logan swallows against the dry lump in his throat.

"Well, as they say in your business, I believe you're the brains of this operation."

Veronica sighs again, letting Logan know how confused she is inside. She leans back against his weight, and Logan accepts it, even when his butt falls roughly to the ground and he has to throw some coordinated thought into how to unfold his body to accommodate hers.

"_Logan, I—" she says, and it's as he expected, but it still stings._

_He's thinking he went the wrong direction with the ring. She must hate it. He was instructed that when you have a hesitant girlfriend you were supposed to go big or go home, and he's gone huge. Well, huge-ish. Choosing the ring had been stressful to say the least, and he'd ultimately selected one more out of desperation and instinct than careful consideration._

"_If you don't like it we can take it back," he says immediately, and Veronica surprises him when she frowns._

_She looks him in the eye, and puts down her spoon._

"_Why are you asking me?"_

_It's not a question he had expected to answer. He struggles to find even footing. "Are you serious?" he asks instead, because he knows she's not asking why people propose to one another. She's asking something else, but he doesn't know what yet._

_Veronica bites her lower lip. "I mean, why do you want me to marry you?"_

_Logan takes a deep shaky breath. This he had somewhat rehearsed. "Because I love you," he lists, trying not to be deterred by the frown marking her features. "And because I don't want to lose you."_

_That last part had __**not**__ been something he'd rehearsed, and he's surprised that he said it because it isn't what he'd wanted to say. He meant to say that he thought of her as the most beautiful girl in the world, that there was no one else in the world he loved more, stuff like that. He had meant to try to articulate what it felt like when she was gone; how it felt like all the lights had gone out in his life when they were apart._

_Veronica's frown is softening, as if he's confirmed at least one of her suspicions. It's starting to make him nervous that she hasn't put on the ring yet, has barely looked at it twice. The nerves twist in his belly with the manicotti._

"_Logan, I'm not going anywhere," she says, and it draws his attention to her face and away from the stupid red and gold leather box he's regretting._

_Logan knows he should be soothed by that, but his heart is thumping inside his chest and he's trying to fight off the dangerous feelings of disappointment and desperation that hover at the edges of his subconscious. "So is that a no?" he asks lightly, and he's proud of himself for at least sounding like he's not hurt inside._

_Veronica frowns again. Then she tries to smile. "Logan, our life is not a Beyonce song. If you like it you don't need to put a ring on it."_

_Logan laughs under his breath and looks down at his lap. He appreciates the joke. "What if I always thought of myself as Jay Z?" He looks her in the eye. "What if I just want to marry you?"_

_Veronica rolls her eyes – she actually rolls her eyes – and Logan gets the feeling she doesn't really know how he feels. Bitterness feels like a bullet through his gut, with a clear entrance and exit._

"_Veronica—" he tries to say, and his voice is lower, fulfilling Yoda's prophecies about hurt leading to anger._

"_You don't need to marry me for me to stick around, Logan."_

_Veronica picks up her spoon and takes another bite of chocolate ice cream._

_Logan is confused and trying to catch up. "I don't?" he asks, rhetorically._

_She looks at him sadly. "I'm not going to cheat on you, and I'm not going to leave you. You don't need to marry me for me to keep those promises."_

_Logan weighs that information in his head, a strange feeling of relief mixing with stress and unease. Veronica cuts a glance to the box and nods her head in its direction. "And you could have used that money to take me to Disneyland, so."_

_Logan rolls his eyes and takes the opportunity to put the box back in his pocket. It sits heavily there, more like rock than a stone wrapped in gold, and he tries very hard to ignore it and to ignore feelings of disappointment._

"_I can still take you to Disneyland," he says, his eyebrows quirking in a joking way, and Veronica smiles at him._

"And now it's stuck," Veronica says, bringing him back to the present.

Logan smirks, kisses her hair, and then brings his left hand up to hers.

"Your hands are cold," he observes, lacing their fingers together, tilting her hand so the ring catches the light. He likes seeing it on her hand, but he's trying not to enjoy it too much, lest she want to take it off immediately.

"So?" she asks, sounding tired.

"My hands always swell up when it's cold, or when I've been flying too long. Something about altitude or blood flow, or…something," he finishes, squeezing her ring finger below her knuckle to show how puffy it is.

She tilts her head. "Are you trying to say I have fat fingers?"

Logan's immediate thought is _no_, but he holds the word in as he examines her hands for an exaggerated minute. Veronica gasps and elbows him lightly when she gets his joke, and he laughs.

She folds her hands together, her gaze stuck on the ring. They're quiet for a while, Logan trying to give her space to think, Veronica lost in thought. He appreciates having her settled between his legs like this, on the floor of their closet, his back against a column of built in drawers and Veronica's weight on his chest.

"I never thought of myself as married," Veronica finally reveals, and her voice is quiet.

Logan kisses her hair again. "I think I've always thought of myself as married to you," he admits. "Or maybe I just like imagining you in a big puffy white dress because I think you're the only girl I've dated who would hate it so much."

Veronica rolls her eyes and her arm twitches, as if she'd like to jab him again. "Well then clearly you don't know me at all, because I've been playing wedding dress up games since I was six."

Logan grins and kisses her ear so he can whisper into it. "Liar."

Veronica sighs, and twists her body around to face him.

"Logan, marriage is terrifying to me. In fact, I sort of hate the whole idea of it. Look at our parents," she argues, and Logan carefully sets his features so she knows he's listening attentively. "Mine got divorced after a lifetime of my mom's cheating, yours should have gotten divorced after—" she doesn't want to say it, and he appreciates her for it. His dad had been a philandering murderer and abuser, and his mom had been a shining example of emotionally battered spouse. "I just – I haven't ever seen an example of marriage making two peoples' lives better. Only worse."

Logan tilts his head to properly meet her eyes.

"Isn't there some saying about history repeating itself? Something about if we learn stuff it won't?"

Veronica doesn't indulge him, and she still looks at him worryingly. "I've always thought of marriage as a Chinese finger trap. Maybe you go in with good intentions, but then you get stuck. And I love you, Logan." His heart never ceases to beat faster when she says it. "I love you, and I'm not going anywhere. I just don't see why we need to get married if those two things are true for both of us."

Logan nods, feeling torn inside.

"But then why are you wearing the ring?" he asks.

Veronica sighs as if that's the million dollar question. She turns away from him, sinking back into his arms. "I don't know," she admits. He lets her continue.

"And I'm supposed to be a modern-day feminist and everything. This thing is supposed to be gaudy and repulsive to me."

Logan' isn't sure why, but he's fighting with a tiny ray of hope that is eking into his subconscious. It's confusing, but undeniable, and he realizes it's because there's an unsaid word hanging in the air.

"_But…?_" he prompts, trying not to smile.

Veronica sighs again. "But this is the fifth time I've put it on all week."

Logan gives in to his grin. He had simply thrown the box in with his watches and loose change when they'd gotten back home from Mama Leone's. He hadn't wanted to think about it back then, hadn't wanted to look at it anymore, and when he'd tossed it aside and promised to block it from his mind it was with plans to do something about it when the pain of rejection wasn't so fresh.

"Why do you want to get married?" she asks him again, and her voice is quiet when she asks.

Logan pulls her tight against his chest. He kisses her hair again, but leaves his face against her head, so he can smell the lingering scent of her shampoo.

"Because I love you," he answers, simply. "I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere, that I'm going to be loyal to you, and that there's no one else I'd rather be with. Ever."

Veronica softens within his arms. "It's not because you want to stamp your ownership all over me?"

"Well that too," Logan concedes, and Veronica laughs softly. There's a bated breath, where Logan waits for her to officially acquiesce.

"I wouldn't take your name."

It's as expected. "That's fine." Veronica twists to see his face.

"And you shouldn't expect me to start popping out little Logan Juniors anytime soon."

Also expected. "That is also fine."

She considers him seriously. "And I want to ride down the aisle on a unicorn," she demands, a twinkle to her eye Logan can hear.

Logan laughs and pulls her chin to his so he can kiss her full on the mouth.

"I'll see what I can do."

Veronica's eyes shine as she looks up at him. "I'm serious though. City hall?"

His eyes glow in return. "Whatever you want," he promises.

They hold each other's gaze for what feels like a long time. Eventually, Veronica groans.

"Ughgh," she intones. "I'm getting _married_."

Logan laughs and pulls her chin back for another kiss, and they kiss until they're both stretched out on the carpeted floor. Their arms tangle in hair and shirts and each other. Kisses are smothering, and then they slow, and when Logan opens his eyes to see what is making Veronica kiss on autopilot, he sees that her eyes are already open and looking away.

Logan pulls away on a happy exhale and stares at her face, watching as his girlfriend thinks private thoughts.

"What if we ever break up?" she asks.

Logan shrugs with one shoulder. "Then we break up," he answers, not wanting to think about it himself. Veronica frowns and tilts her head to face him. Her hair slides against the carpet, and some lewd part of Logan's brain wonders instinctually how much friction it would take to give them rug burn. It's the sort of thought that flits through a man's brain when he's happy, and it goes in and out of his consciousness mostly unnoticed.

"Look," Logan says, his thumb grazing her jaw. "I want to marry you. If at the very least to be able to say to everyone how much you mean to me. Girlfriend just doesn't cut it. I would never want to have to describe you as my ex-girlfriend, because what I'd want to say is that you're the love of my life and I did something devastatingly moronic to make you leave me."

He looks at her seriously. "Or, that's what I would say to people, but really if you ever left me I'd just be dead on the sidewalk somewhere, moaning."

It's a sweet thing to say, he realizes, because her eyes shine a little when he's done waxing his honest version of poetry. "What you're saying is, that you'd turn into a zombie should we ever break up?"

Logan sighs, his gaze still penetrating. "More or less."

Veronica grins, and he can tell she wants to make a joke about having to bash his brains in with a baseball bat. He knows she loves the movie _Shaun of the Dead_ because they've watched it three times.

"Well at the very least," she says, looking at the ring again, "this would make a great prop."

They laugh and kiss some more, until kisses grow fevered and thoughts of rug burn begin to resurface.

Logan pulls back unexpectedly. "Seriously though that's a yes?"

Veronica's perfectly blue eyes grow wide, her lips pouty and inviting, and she shakes her head at him incredulously. "Oh I am going to punch you. And you should be scared now, because I am basically wearing brass knuckles here."

Logan grins, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He smothers her mouth in kisses. He will get her to say the word _yes_, he decides with an inglorious grin, his kisses moving south. He will get her to say the word _yes_ until she can't say it anymore, until he's tired of hearing it, or until the sun rises – whichever comes first.

* * *

**The end. I feel like whenever a fanfic writer enters a new fandom there are certain things they have to cross off their head cannon list. First time fic? Check. Baby fic? Check. Proposal fic? Check. Now to move on to something slightly more creative. Thank you for reading :-) Review if you can.**


End file.
